"I suppose he had his reasons," comment sounding faint and far away. It saddened her find out Robb was bottling everything up around Jon. That wasn't healthy, despite whatever glancing knowledge she possessed of Jon's sorry childhood. Marjatta had her suspicions, mind; her boy had his odd ways now and then, contrary to a fault if it suited and oftentimes liable to pull a stunt for no particular reason except that at the time it seemed a really cracking idea. A daredevil some in the village had called him back when he was but a wee stripling, reddish locks glinting in the sunlight and winning smile and high, clear voice she could pick out of a thousand. That was his charm, and Marjatta's eventual Kryptonite when it came time to dole out punishments for less than stellar behavior.
"You might want to check in on him periodically as your work schedule allows - we've already spoken today and to be honest, I thought your call was Robb phoning me up again..."
Marjatta considered for a long moment with a press of fingertips to upper lip the ramifications of what she'd just been told. Thinking back to those dark, blurry days - constable's inquiry, all the neighborly drop-ins bringing their condolences and covered dish meals that went mostly uneaten, the mountain of paperwork to sort out, those mean-minded, parsimonious bastards from Aegon she'd had to fight, tooth and nail, to get Kenneth's life assurance payout and her widow's pension - it made her head spin. The two of them had gotten through it, but if she had to recall exactly how they'd managed... well, she'd be very hard pressed to say the least.
"Jon... a bit of motherly advice: If it looks as if he's drawing in on himself, do be kind to him and try your best to pull him out of it."
"He did that very same thing when Kenneth died, you see. Wouldn't talk for well on a fortnight except the occasional grunt and surly grumble letting me know he wasn't hungry and most definitely didn't want to see a doctor or the vicar."